Lavender Tapestry: A short story

Rebellion accomplished very little, the young prince thought. He pondered over the reports flooding into the palace room. Though, not for him, and it was quite rude to eavesdrop. Regardless, he knew something was going on outside. Outside the walls of the palace that is. He was never allowed to leave in fear that something might happen. He heard the same excuse each time from his father. It is for your own good.

This never made any sense though. How was he supposed to be a successful ruler? Was he not to meet his own subjects? It simply did not make any sense at all. A good ruler should be aware of everything going on outside, not cooped up inside like some kind of animal. There might be a hint of irony in all of that, he thought.

Perhaps there is some merit to the rebellion. Though there was no way to ever really know without meeting those who would resist the law. Perhaps they felt the same way as Prince Beaumont. It would be a difficult escape pulled off.

Escape… That is a really difficult idea to grapple with. Beaumont wanted to shed the elegant clothing for something more simple to know what life was like for those simple folk. How else would he be the ruler that his father wanted? He paced up and down the clean tile floor, each step creating a ripple of sound that echoed throughout the hallway.

A maid would enter the hallway. Immediately she looked down away from the prince, so as not to offend royalty. Beaumont paid little attention as he stopped at a window to look out. Down below was an ocean of lawn with each blade of grass cut to a perfect height. A small fountain produced water from a spout that ran down stone steps to create a beautiful stream flow.

“Have you prepared everything?” Beaumont moused, his words offering very little falter. He wanted to seem certain of this without showing an inch of fear.

“Of course m’lord.” The maid replied, without looking up from the hay broom that swept back and forth.

And with that the prince knew everything he needed to. He moved off into his bedroom to begin preparing his end of things. His servants were loyal to him, but even then, that required a certain amount of loyalty in return. Beaumont started pressing against the stone walls until one of the bricks played loose. Removing this revealed a stash of pounds. Each plated in gold, worth quite a bit to a simple servant.He placed the sack of pounds in the top drawer of his dresser, somewhere that was not obvious but could be found by someone who was busy putting away the royal garments.

With that he made his way through the fortress of stone walls and long hallways to reach the open air. Beaumont took a large breath of the free air. He began making his way to the royal garden where a few gardeners were busy toiling away with a variety of vegetables and fruit trees. Each one required serious upkeep to prevent weeds from soiling the perfect fertilizer that promotes growth.

Beaumont looked out over the garden. Again, everyone kept their head down to avoid looking up at someone who was more important. Even more importantly they were the masters of their own kingdom. To establish law and rule within their own nation for the citizens of fruit and vegetables. They could hear directly what issues the plants had and they could make immediate changes to ensure they remained green and healthy. Any neglect would cause a revolt and ultimately death.

Prince Beaumont broke his gaze at the garden and made his way to the back shed where most of the garden tools were stored. Inside was a large room with some cots setup where the gardeners lived. He moved to one of the storage containers and began to flip through it. Plain clothes were inside something that would draw no attention and something that absolutely did not look like royalty.

After a quick change of clothes the young prince became simply another person. He pushed his way out of the shed to be met by the same maid from earlier. She motioned Beaumont to follow.

“We will be going to the market to pick up some necessities. From there you would be free.” She commanded. Her demeanor had completely changed as she looked directly into the eyes of Beaumont.

All he could manage was a simple nod. He followed the maid out of the gates of the castle who did all of the talking to the royal guards. She had long blonde hair and a youthful look that rivaled the prince’s. Once out of the gate she took the prince's hand and began running off towards the market.

“I’m Sybil by the way.” she giggled, darting through the large crowds of people.

The prince had no sense of direction and quickly felt lost. All he knew from this moment forward was the blue ocean eyes of the maid he was following. No longer just a maid however, she was Sybil.

Beaumont followed with glee seeing so many different stalls once they reached the market place. Some stalls were closed with wood boards, however some were open with welcome arms. The crowd in the market place was very light. Those who were there spoke in hushed voices, complaining about trivial life issues. Taxes, pay, and a whole side of life that Beaumont has never known.

Sybil led the prince to a run down inn, one that looked like at one point in time was a really nice place in a perfect location. But grease and water stains permeated the entire building at this time. Inside were some people huddled around the bar each with a small mug of mead. None seemed interested in their drink, and everyone seemed interested in what the barkeep had to say. They also each had a red leather arm band.

Once the door shut each of their heads turned to meet Sybil’s eyes.

Sybil began construction on the barricade. They were going to create a parameter around the plaza of the marketplace. This was going to be the final stand for the revolution. Except this time they had their ace in the hole. A prisoner. Prince Beaumont was the lone heir to the throne. Even if everything went wrong, they would end the lineage of the old kingdom. Their republic would come from the chaos. When that chaos chose to show its face was another matter.

She helped push each of the stalls to create their borders. Furniture from all of the buildings was plundered for additional barricades. This was going to be the Republic of Gold Square. This would grow to a new republic that would overtake the old kingdom. She had believed in their cause and they elected the bartender to be the leader of this new republic.

She did feel bad. There was a sense of guilt for the prince. She knew they were outgunned and outnumbered especially once the army would be called in. Would this really accomplish anything, Sybil pondered.

She looked to the center of the plaza. There was a large statue of the first king riding his horse. Bound to it was Prince Beaumont who was surrounded by wood. The army would not risk blundering such a valuable target. But his eyes never left Sybil. That is what truly made her feel guilty. He was honest to his word as well. He asked about everyone’s name, their struggles, and how he could help. Beaumont really did want to help it seems.

Once the new fortifications were built fellow republicans started taking positions along the wall, each armed with a flintlock firearm. It was not long before the army responded themselves. They started taking up positions down the street and creating their own protection. There was an air of silence.

This lasted into the night as well. The prince had fallen asleep, likely from exhaustion from sitting in the sun. But it seemed like his head turned to constantly follow Sybil. Oil lamps were being lit as shifts were being created to man the gates. Sybil retreated into the inn that had been turned into a makeshift barracks.

Early in the morning a general from the army rode on his horse into the no man's land between the two nations. The barkeep who was elected by the republic to be their leader walked out of the republic borders to meet him. Sybil was put on shift and stood peeking over a wood bench to see it all.

“You know our conditions. We have the crown prince. Our demands shall be met.” The barkeep spoke.

The general remained stoic. He removed a scroll and started speaking as if it was a proclamation, “The king has died. The prince has gone missing. The military will be issuing martial law. As the highest ranking official, I will be the next ruler.” As quickly as he spoke he removed his own flintlock pistol and dispatched the barkeep.

Sybil was stunned. This was all for naught. Their freedom was over. There would be a new so-called king to take the place of the old. Their revolution had acted as a revolver, and simply revolved in a new monarch.